Launch: Chapter 14

  “Well, I’m happy for you that you’re liking what you’re seeing at this point,” Amber offered.  She sounded like she was only dutifully trying to be supportive.  “But I though part of the whole idea for you was to effectively retire?”

  “Oh, well you know me… I already feel bored not having worked the last few months.  To be honest, if everything looks good after I look into it, I rather like the idea of taking on some responsibilities.  Besides, it’d probably mean I could skip some other duties I’d probably like far less…”

  “Right…” she said in her non-committal way which indicated she didn’t know what to say next.

  “Anyways… I should get going.  I have some appointments to keep soon.”  In truth he just had a sudden and severe desire to end the conversation.

  “Right… alright, talk to you later Markus,” she offered.

  “Right… bye.”  Markus blinked for a few moments after the screen Amber’s face had been on went blank.  Eventually he just shrugged and got up to leave.

  As Markus walked toward the door it slid open for him, confronting him with the noisy bustle in the corridor outside his room.  The New Horizon was still bristling with a flurry of last minute work and finishing details.  Everyone was working on final preparations, checking things over, re-checking, and then doing it all over again.  They needed to be as close to absolutely certain as was possible by human or machine, that they were getting everything right.  They would only ever get the one chance; there would be no resupply or rescue mission, and there would be no stops along the way.

  Occasionally passing people who really seemed in a hurry to get where they were going, he followed the map on his wrist pad and the arrow indicating his position.  Those who went by him offered only a passing greeting, obviously having little but their work on their mind, with little attention left to spare for simple formalities or pleasantries.  Markus was in any case taking much more notice of the décor as he walked through the ship; he hadn’t before taken the time to notice how distinct it was.

    Long ago on Earth, Health Psychologists had identified which colours were predominantly associated with which emotions.  Colours associated with particular emotions were paid more attention to by people in particular states and it was also found that these colours gently encouraged the expression of the emotions they were associated with.   Yellow and other soothing colours, had been shown to predispose people to feelings of warmth and happiness.

  The result was a very happy looking world.  Warm yellows, soft blues, pale magentas, and dull greens had pervaded human life on Earth.   Most people appreciated it and happily acknowledged the effect it had on them.  While Markus didn’t hate it, it did always bother him somewhat.   He thought that maybe it was the fact that it was just so fucking ubiquitous, always the same variations of warm and soft colours the whole world over.   It was so sickeningly… cheerful.   Humans needed (or at least Markus found that he needed) variety in everything, and it was just too much of the same for him.  He made the walls of his apartment bedroom back in Vancouver entirely white to clear his colour palette.  Out in the rest of his apartment he had decorated and painted with much bolder, richer, and darker colours.  He used more mysterious navy blue, royal purple, and scarlet red; colours with character!

  But this ship was decorated in a very different and unique way.  By design (it seemed impossible that it could be by accident, not with how carefully every other minute detail of the mission was planned), it was furnished in what was to Markus a rather comfortably elegant and minimalist design sense.  It was inviting, but in a somehow cold and standoffish way.  Much was left the dull silver of treated metal from which the bulkheads were originally constructed.  It may have been the intended décor, or maybe it was just work to be done in flight and there was a storehouse of paint somewhere.  He had his doubts about that but in any case; Markus decided that he liked it the way it was.  He somehow found that it didn’t… impose itself on him; he liked that it didn’t presume that he should feel any particular way.  It just was what it was, bare and exposed for all to see.  It was honest, and he liked that.

  The same went for the flooring.   It was simply the bare metal grating from which the deck had been constructed, and again it may have been the case that somewhere on the ship there was a storehouse of carpeting awaiting installation.  But carpets don’t last forever; they would eventually need to be replaced if they were going to be used; it was after all going to be a very long trip.  ‘A very long trip…’ he thought.  Sometimes the scope of what he was a part of now, and the time scales involved… well they eluded him, and he had to focus himself once again.

  Following his pad, he made his way to Kirsten’s office again, and after a moment of standing in front of the clear sliding door with her name and position printed on it, it promptly opened for him.  He found Kirsten sitting at her desk, hunched over and looking very intently at her screen.   Today she was wearing green engineering coveralls with her blond hair was hidden away by a purple bandana.  She was softly but intently biting on a screen stylus, and rapidly bouncing one of her legs up and down.

  He found this nervous habit endearing, and he mused over what he might infer about her personality based on this.  It wasn’t something one saw much these days, except of course for in classical cinema, a genre he loved but shared with only a select few.  His collection of films in his personal archives, which he had been amassing most of his life, was a particular point of pride and occasional joy.

  The Earth General Archive had most films present and past which most anyone would ever want to see, but to dig deeper and access a richer and broader collection, one had to approach specializing collectors like Markus.  With so much cinema having been produced over so long a time, collectors tended to have to specialize in just a few very specific genres, because those specific interests alone consumed more than enough of their leisure time.   Markus’ own favourite genre was science fiction, and as far as he was concerned the earlier the better, though he found that all eras certainly had their jewels.  There were also some which were absolutely terrible, and while there were some people who actually enjoyed those films for just that reason, Markus was not one of them.  What he found fascinating were the hopes and dreams that people of the past projected onto their visions of the future; a future he now lived in.

  Kirsten looked up briefly to identify him and then turned back to her screen and stylus.  “Gotten yourself into trouble already have you?”

  “Well, not trouble per se… but there is something you can help me with.”  He was trying his best to be genial, a skill he had been practicing since his youth as it had never come naturally to him.  He found it usually the most effective way to exercise soft power and get people to want to do what he wanted them to do.

  She wrinkled her nose, turned toward him, and looked at him oddly.  “You’re very literal aren’t you?”  She didn’t wait for a response.  She looked back at her monitor and continued, “I was kidding, what do you need?  You almost missed me.  My schedule’s a little light today with most of the crew already aboard, so I’m giving the engineering crew a hand in taking the fusion core and ion drives through their final checks before the launch…  How can I help?”

  ‘Ah’, Markus thought to himself, ‘that explains the green coveralls; she’s going to go work in the engineering section.’

  There were a variety of coloured coveralls for people to wear on the ship.  It wasn’t any sort of official uniform, but it was a reflection that clothing onboard was quickly becoming much more about utility than fashion.  People brought clothes with them from Earth, and there would be people on board who could repair clothing and create new garments from scratch, but for the most part gone would be the days of ‘dressing to impress.’  There were more important things for people to concern themselves with now.

  “It’s ok, I’m actually interested in the engines and power core myself.  Bit of a tech buff but I don’t have the kind of practical experience you obviously must have.”  Another odd glance from her; he was trying to compliment her but he could feel that it had come out awkwardly.  Her expression changed to one of expectancy.   She was clearly waiting for him to get on with what he’d stopped by for.   As privately as he could, he composed himself and continued.  “Before I make my final decision about the genetics position, I thought it would be a good idea to go see the lab for myself and meet the staff.”

  “Good thought.”  She looked back at her screen.  “Well, I’m pretty much finished here; I was just running a simulation.  Sometimes the engine team, power team, and construction teams don’t all quite speak the same language…”  She tapped at her screen a few more times and then plucked her medium scroll out its dock in her deck.  The medium sized thirty centimeter across scrolls were most commonly used for work which could feel cramped on the smaller wrist models, and for which the larger half meter ones were unnecessary or would be unwieldy.   “…I’m heading back to the engine room now, but the genetics lab is on the way.  Come on, I can walk you over and introduce you to your team.  They can show you around the lab and answer any questions you have.”  She walked past him and out the door without looking back.  He kicked up his feet and hurried up to follow and keep her pace.

  “They’re not my team yet you know, I… I still haven’t decided,” he pointed out as they hurried down the hall.

  “Un-hunh,” she retorted dismissively and powered on.

   

  Markus was a little out of breath from following Kirsten.  He was an academic who didn’t exercise nearly enough and she was clearly in much better shape, and apparently in a hurry to get wherever she was going.  Despite his breathlessness though, he wanted to know more about her.  “Where are you from Kirsten?” he asked.

  She looked back at him curiously.   She obviously wasn’t expecting such a question.  “South Africa originally… Cape Town.”

  “And…?” Markus dug.

  “And well… I was Director of Station Personnel on Orbital One for seven years before being recruited to the New Horizon mission about a year ago.  Before that though… I rather though of the station as my home.”

  “I can’t really relate to that,” he replied.  “I’ve lived most of my life in and around Vancouver.”  He had to talk in fits, trying to catch his breath in between.   “I did some of my… graduate work at McGill in Montreal… but other than that I grew up in… in Vancouver and… and I’ve spent most of my career there…  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve… I’ve been all around the Solar System but… I’ve always had a very clear idea of what home was… and how far away I was from it and you know… what it means to be leaving it all behind.”  He was sad now; it had snuck up on him.

  She stopped a little abruptly, and Markus thankfully had a chance to catch his breath.  “Are you hungry?  I have some time for lunch if you’d… if you’d like to talk.”  Markus noticed that her abrupt stop had been in front of the dining hall.  It was hard to tell if she had suddenly become a bit more interested in him, or if she was simply doing her job as the ship’s head of human resources, sensing that a new crewmate needed to talk about something.  He assumed the latter by default, but he hoped it was the former.

  “Oh, um… sure that would, that would be great.”  Being attracted to her made him anxious, but he felt he could manage a one on one situation far more comfortably than a group setting like he’d been confronted with in the dining hall the night before.  She nodded, and then led him through the door and into the dining hall.

  “Let’s see…” she said, reviewing the choices for lunch.  “cobb salad, club sandwich, vegetable pho…” she tapped her finger against her chin while thinking about it for a moment.  “Cobb salad I think… how bout you?

  “Club sandwich, definitely, with fries.”  She silently ordered the two meals for them, and then leaned against the wall and folded her arms.  She looked at him with a curious scrutiny that made him just a little uncomfortable, but not too much.

  “I haven’t thought about my pre-Horizon life in a while.  It’s not something we talk about much around here.  It’s not like we’re not supposed to or anything… it’s just that we’ve always been so busy you know?  Preoccupied…  That being said though… we all have a story, I mean… we all come from somewhere.”  Markus nodded, indicating that he understood.

  “And people we’ve left behind…” he added somberly.

  She rolled her eyes a bit but they stopped at the ceiling, and then rolled them back down again the way they came instead of completing the roll.  “Yes,” she acknowledged more reflectively, “people we’ve left behind.”   The dispensary presented their meals, and they each grabbed their respective trays.  She led him up one of the stairwells to the second level and selected for them a table by the balcony, from which they could look down on most of the main floor.

  “I was married,” Markus nearly choked on his first bite of sandwich; “technically I guess I still am!” she laughed out loud abruptly and heartily, seemingly surprising even herself at her own amusement.  “He’s the head of flight operations on Orbital One, but… we haven’t spoken in over a year, since I came to live onboard full time.  Both my parents died a long time ago so… there really isn’t anyone else I’m leaving behind, just him… oh and he was furious.  He never understood at all what I found so appealing about this ship and its mission…  How bout you?  Any kids?   Ever married?”

  “No no, neither actually… never even close.  I was always married to my work,” Markus remarked.

  “I can relate to that…. my husband often complained about always coming in second behind my work.  We were young when we got married, too young apparently… and we were pressured into it by his parents.  I think that’s part of what appealed to me so much about this mission at first, that it was an easy out from that situation.”  Markus remembered from her file that she was thirty four years old and if she’d been married too young and still was, the quick math in his head informed him that she’d probably been married a decade and a half or more.

  “Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as a woman who needs an easy way for anything she wants.”

  She looked at him, apparently a little surprised by his comment, and then she smiled warmly.  “Thank you,” she softly replied, then asked: “so how bout you Markus, why the New Horizon?  What made you apply?”

  “My friend Hugh.  Truth is this was his dream, not mine.  I only applied because he did but in the end,” he poked himself in the chest, “I won, and he didn’t.  It actually took some convincing for him to get me to go without him.  He’s excited for me… no one else in my life wants me to go though…  They’re not furious with me or anything, but they are all somewhat… disappointed.”

  “That must be hard,” she remarked.

  “Yes, but to be honest less and less so since being here.   This ship is amazing!  To see it in person really is… something else.”  He looked fondly down on the Earth through the window in the floor of the dining hall’s main level.  “Life will go on down there, you know?  With or without me… or any of us.”

  “Absolutely,” she answered, “life will go on.”